


Silence in the Summer Night

by Dendritic_Trees



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms, Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Halo Fusion, Crime Fighting, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-03-21 00:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13728918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dendritic_Trees/pseuds/Dendritic_Trees
Summary: Detective Inspector Jack Robinson has enough on his plate coping with the upheaval of the end of the Earth-Covenant war and the existence of Miss Phryne Fisher without what looks like a terrorist attack in the middle of Mindoro.He really, desperately didn't need an erratic ONI admiral and a pack of Spartans on top of one.Its just that he has no way of getting rid of them.





	1. Entropy

An explosion was a source of entropy. In Jack’s experience it went well beyond the physics of the thing. People panicked, order broke down, communication got jumbled - the spreading wave of chaos extended well beyond the actual shockwave.And Jack was tasked with containing this one, not among a squad of soldiers, but a crowd of civilians.

Jack motioned for Collins to pull over when they got close enough he could hear shouting and ran the rest of the way to the scene. The first round of ambulance and fire crews had beaten them to the scene, but the explosives team had not turned up yet. He set Collins and his other constable, the new one - Tanner, to roping off the scene, then he sucked in a deep breath, and prepared to face the chaos.

But the first thing he noticed, stepping onto the crime scene, was that it seemed strangely subdued. He was having to work his way past clusters of construction workers, shoppers and other passers-by, but they were largely milling in stationary clusters, and the paramedics were already arranged for triage. He worked is way over the nearest ambulance and flashed his badge at a paramedic who was rifling through the back of his rig for supplies.

“Detective Inspector Jack Robinson,” he said, “what can you tell me?”

The paramedic, a shockingly young looking man with floppy blond hair blinked at him and pointed inward towards the centre of the blast, “we got the call and headed out, there’s a - well, I’m not actually sure who they are, but they’ve been having the casualties moved out here, and I’d talk to them.”

Jack nodded and left the man to his work. Stepping into the struts of the now blasted construction site Jack finally found the edges of the scene he’d been expecting. He had to stop three times to redirect limping, glassy-eyed construction workers around the rubble and the paramedics carrying the more seriously injured.

He wound his way around until he found someone doing the same directing he’d been doing. He was young, maybe Collin’s age but with the soldier’s posture Collins inescapably lacked, and a brutal scar stretching across his jaw. He also reeked of alcohol.

“Police,” Jack said to him shortly, “what can you tell me?”

“We were out drinking -“ the soldier started unnecessarily. He had a thick Russian accent, rendered even more incomprehensible by the slight slur. He cut himself off to pull a panicked looking woman out of the path of the paramedics, “and, well, running towards explosions - sort of a habit. Heard the blast, but I didn’t see anything. Naomi’s been keeping things in hand. She’s that-a-way. You can’t really miss her.” He flapped an arm left to point the correct direction out,”also she’s sober, so…” he trailed off with an apologetic grimace.

“I’ll let it slide,” said Jack, “the bomb squad should be here soon to take over.”

  


Naomi jumped clear of a tangle of shredded scaffolding, and Jack instantly knew she was who he was meant to be looking for, and what, if not who, she was. He had seen that sort of inhuman parabolic arc before, like gravity had looked at who was jumping, and decided to grant a waiver.

When he got to her, the Spartan - Naomi - was setting a burly construction worker onto a stretcher like he was a child. Even in scruffy civilian clothing smeared with dirt and oil Jack would have known what she was even without seeing her jump. For one thing she was easily two metres tall. But there was something about her that was just off, like he could see the armour she wasn’t currently wearing.

He tilted his head up to catch her eye, and flashed his badge.

She saluted. “That scaffolding is not in good shape sir,” she said, “there still people up there but I’m not sure it will take my weight in those sections.”

“I think you’ve done what you can,” Jack assured her and waved her back out of the scene, “I appreciate you managing the scene.”

She followed him out without a word.

Collins met them just clear of the construction site.

“Sir, the bomb squad just arrived and they…” he trailed off open mouthed as he caught sight of the Spartan.

“Collins,” Jack barked at him.

“They want to talk to you sir,” Collins finished and led them over.

While they were moving the Russian solider he’d spoken to earlier sidled up to them. Collins was still staring and he was glowering at him in a way that just dripped trouble.

“Jack,” called Thomas, who led the bomb squad, “we’ve got to stop meeting like this. What have you got for me.”

“Basically nothing Tom,” said Jack, “I just got here myself.”

He nodded towards Naomi, who picked up with perfect professionalism.

“I heard the blast at about 2000 hours, the streets were crowded, there’s a lot of minor injuries around the perimeter. There’s been a lot of damage to the scaffolding, its unstable and there’s still people trapped in it. I’ve been through this quadrant and I didn’t find any secondary explosives, but it should still all be swept. Just tell me where you want me.”

Thomas looked like he wanted to take her up on that, but Jack was watching the crowd and Collins wasn’t the only one staring and he wanted to head that off before things got out of hand.

“Actually I’d like a statement,” said Jack, “Collins will stay here and see that the scene is roped off. Collins, make sure you have the contact details of everyone before they leave the scene, we’ll need statements from the tomorrow.”

He turned to Naomi, “do you know where the rest of your squad is?”

Naomi looked out over the crowd, she had an advantage over Jack for that, and waved. Jack directed her back towards his car. They were joined by not only the Russian, but another dark haired man, and an East Asian woman. They all had that look which Jack associated with ODSTs.

“Sorry to disrupt your evening,” Jack said, which got a round of grins. Definitely ODSTs.

  


By the time they got back to the station, Jack already had to shepherd them through a cluster of news reporters, all of whom goggled at Naomi when she climbed out of the car.

“Don’t look at them,” he whispered to her, as the passed, “it only encourages them.”

He directed the four of them into the waiting area, and sent the constable on the desk to fetch coffee, which was about all he was good for. After the gauntlet of reporters they were all looking a bit mutinous, except for Naomi, who just looked tired and resigned.

“Thank you for the help,” Jack said, “I appreciate it. I just need a statement from each of you, and then you can be on your way.”

He looked at each of them in turn, and they each relaxed a little, except for the Russian, who was glowering at him like he blamed Jack personally for the whole turn of events.

“I’ll start,” said Naomi.

The Russian stood up along with her, and made to follow her into the interview room.

“One by one please,” said Jack.

“Its fine Vasya,” Naomi, and waved him back, and then he sat back down.

Naomi folded herself up behind the interview table with her back parade-rest straight, twirling her coffee cup between her hands. When Jack sat down across from her, she didn’t move. He couldn’t tell if she was sitting that way out of habit, or to avoid making eye contact. He spent a second just looking at her. He’d never seen a Spartan out of their armour before. She was shockingly pale, and had pale hair and oddly shiny grey eyes that just made it more obvious. It also made it hard to tell how old she was, somewhere between twenty-five and fifty was as much as he could narrow it down. There were paired scars, so even they had to be surgical running down the sides of her hands, and across her wrists.

“Sorry about the, ah, crowd-control issue,” Jack said, hoping she hadn’t seen him staring.

“Its not your fault. I’m getting used to it,” she said.

He activated the recording equipment built into the room and slid down in his chair a little so he could watch her face without making a scene.

“Can you give me your name first, just for the record?” Jack asked.

“Petty Officer Naomi zero-one-zero,” she said.

“Do you, have a surname?” Jack asked.

“No sir,” she said evenly, but for just a fraction of a second, her face spasmed. He didn’t follow it up.

“Okay,” said Jack, “can you describe what happened immediately before you heard the explosion?”

“We were in a bar,” she started, “it was called the, um, Oak Tree. We were about four blocks north east of the blast site. There were only a few people there, so it wasn’t as crowded as the street. I didn’t see anything that looked unusual when we came in, but we came from the opposite direction to the elevator site. I don’t really, know, about cities though. I could have missed things. I’m sorry this won’t be a huge amount of help.”

“This is easily in the top half of witness statements I have taken,” Jack reassured her, “just keep talking me through things.”

“The blast was around 2000 hours. I heard two distinct sounds, but at the distance I couldn’t tell you if it was two explosions or an explosion and a collapse. We got to the scene about five minutes later. A lot of the shrapnel had been thrown out laterally, there were a lot of injured civilians. I left the other three, Mal, Vasya and Lian, trying to keep everyone clear in case there was another blast. And I went in to see what was happening. The blast damage was focused, around the scaffolding. I was mostly focused on getting people down where I could, so I didn’t see the complete blast pattern. But it struck me as odd.”

“In what way is that odd?” Jack asked.

“I’ve seen a space elevator collapse,” Naomi said, “even for partially constructed one the blast radius would have been a lot bigger, there would have been a lot more infrastructure damage. But they’re hard to bring down. The easiest way to do it is how the Covenant used to, to blow through the cables or the counterweight from orbit, and let the cable fall on what’s underneath.If you want to do it from the ground you need to destabilize the foundation. They would have had to blast at least two or three stories underground.”

As she moved from explaining her movements in a peaceful city to describing disaster response she relaxed in stages. Her posture didn’t change, but her face opened up, and she stopped clutching her coffee mug and gestured to demonstrate positioning.

“How widely known is that?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know,” said Naomi, “we studied blueprints in training, but I don’t know about civilian access. Is it important? Space elevators don’t vary much in design, and the plans could be stolen.”

“An incompetent attempt to destroy a space elevator and a bomb deliberately placed to blast the street have very different motives,” Jack explained.

He went back and hashed out a few more details of the timeline, but for all her apologies, she had given him most of what she needed without prompting.

“How long are you going to be stationed here?” he asked finally, “I may want to follow up on some of this.”

“I don’t know,” said Naomi, “we haven’t got new orders yet. But I can notify you.”

“Thank you,” said Jack, handing her his card and led her back out of the interview room.

  


As she came out and traded places with her sullen Russian friend, she bent down and whispered, “be nice, he’s okay.”

That seemed to reassure him, because he was glaring fractionally less when he sat down, and he was as useful as someone out drinking could be expected to be. And Jack wasn’t going to hassle an off-duty solider for drinking, when he wasn’t causing a public nuisance. But nothing he had to say added much information to what Naomi had already given him, either.

Neither of the other two marines, Malcolm Geffen and Lian Devereaux could tell him much more either. He was finishing up with the details of Sergeant Devereaux’s statement, when the new constable, Blackwood, stuck his head around the door without a knock and looking like he’d just seen battle.

“Sorry, Inspector, sir,” he stammered, “there’s someone here, asking for you. And I don’t know who she is, but she wants to talk to you, and she’s being very insistent, and, I don’t know what to do.”

‘I don’t know what to do’ could have been the boy’s catch phrase. In Jack’s opinion he needed to be sent back to the police academy for another ten years or so. So he wasn’t likely to resolve whatever it was, without assistance.

“I’m sorry about this,” he said to Sergeant Devereaux, “just let me go sort this out and we can finish up.”

“I’m comfy,” she drawled.

  


Usually, when people asked for him specifically, it was someone he knew. The woman sprawled across the bench in the front of the station with her arms crossed had the same sort of look, disheveled and sullen, but she was a stranger.

“Detective Inspector Jack Robinson,” he introduced himself, “how can I help you?”

Before she answered, she stood up and came over to lean across the desk. She was easily over six foot, with dark, shiny eyes. Jack was well past being intimidated by something like a little looming, but beside him, Blackwood took a step back, “ _Rear Admiral_ Serin Osman,” she snarled, “you’re holding my people.”

She didn’t look like an admiral, even one who was off duty and out of uniform.

“Well firstly,” said Jack, “you can start by showing me some identification.”

She didn’t move, just flicked her eyes towards the front desk computer. Jack followed the look. While he watched, the screen blanked, and was replaced with an official UNSC identification with a photo of the same woman currently glaring at him. Rear Admiral Serin Osman, 39489-72738-SO, Office of Naval Intelligence.”

Osman leant past him to stare right at the computer screen and said, “thank you BB.”

“No trouble at all,” said a British voice. An AI then.

“Well, Rear Admiral,” Jack said, “that’s a very nice trick, but I’d like my terminal back if you don’t mind.”

The screen went back to normal, Jack turned back to face Osman.

“First off,” he said, “I am not holding anyone. I am interviewing first responders at an explosion and potential terrorist attack. So your intelligence may have some gaps in it, you should look into that. Second, they can leave as soon as I am done and not before. Third, I’d be done faster if I were doing that, not out here mollycoddling you. Constable Blackwood here will fetch you some coffee if you’d like to wait.”

They had a brief staring match. Jack was in the right, and they both knew it. Osman had probably known it since she walked into the station. For whatever reason she seemed to be looking for a fight, but Jack wasn’t going to let her have one. She deflated and skulked off to sprawl over his waiting area like an irate cat.

“Well,” Jack said to Constable Blackwood, “go get the admiral a cup of coffee.”

Blackwood fled. Jack rolled his eyes at both of them at an angle he knew Osman would be able to see, and went back to finish his interview.

  


Osman stood back up when Jack walked everyone back out, but either she had really needed some coffee, or she’d realized that Jack wasn’t going to let her take her temper out on him, because she wasn’t seething any more.

“Hello admiral,” Mal said cheerfully, “come to post bail.”

“Preventing police harassment more like,” said Osman.

“Its all fine,” said Naomi, “really. Inspector Robinson let us debrief here because I’m a crowd control issue.”

“Oh,” said Osman. Jack could see the muscles in her jaw work before she turned and gave him a curt nod.


	2. A Busy Morgue

Jack stayed at the station late enough to be there when Collins trailed back in now liberally covered in soot, trying to sort through the administrative chaos that the actual chaos had left in its wake, crashed into bed after what had stretched into a sixteen hour day, overslept and went straight back to the blast site without stopping at the station to make up some of the lost time.

But when he got there there there were already people walking around his crime scene.It wasn’t Miss Fisher, he knew her silhouette. He ducked under the crime scene tape, strode over to the nearest person, a very short, slim woman with olive skin and dark hair.

“Excuse me, this is a crime scene you need to leave,” he said.

“ONI. You must be Robinson,” she said in a tone that suggested that, whoever had told her about him hadn’t liked him very much.

“If the Office of Naval Intelligence wants data from this case they can wait for my report,” Jack said shortly, and put a hand on her shoulder to steer her away back out of the crime scene.

He must of startled her, because she jerked back, and for the fraction of a second before she brought her face under control her eyes were white-ringed and huge.

“Problem?” said someone behind him.

Jack turned around and found himself nose to collarbone with a very young and very irritable looking ONI agent.

“I think I can manage him thanks Mark,” said the woman.

Mark took precisely one step back and glowered at Jack like he was attempting to set him on fire.

But whatever it was he had done was probably why she turned around, took his badge straight out of his hand, and gave him an absolutely scathing dressing down.

“Okay Detective Inspector Jack Robinson,” she sneered, “I was told that I was going to be working with a local team to handle this investigation. But since you apparently can’t even manage to read your own memos, you can just go sit over there, out of the way, and when we’re done, we’ll call you and explain to you what happened, and maybe if you’re feeling ambitious you can go issue some parking tickets in the mean time.”

Jack was willing to let being referred to as a traffic cop slide, but he wasn’t about to be marched off his own crime scene by some ONI ghoul. Before he could formulate a reply though, his phone started chirping insistently.

“Collins,” he said.

Collins sounded completely terrified, “um, sir, there’s, um, a lot of people here and they all want to speak to you, and they want to know when you’ll be into the station and so I was wondering if you could tell me, and then I could tell them, and…”

Jack had a terrible premonition about who he’d find waiting for him at the station.

“Tell them I went straight to the blast site and I’m thirty minutes away,” he told Collins.

“Tell you what,” he said to his new investigative partner, “how about you and I both go back downtown and we’ll get this all sorted out.”

She didn’t answer, directly but she turned to Mark, and the other two ONI minions whohad materialized while she’d been yelling. They were a matched set, all young and tall and heavily muscled.

“You three stay here, keep going over the scene, and I’m going to go deal with this nonsense,” she said, in a tone suggesting that Jack, not the interagency communications issue, was the nonsense.

“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” he said, “as they walked back to his car, “Agent…”

“Veta Lopis,” she said, and that was the end of the conversation until they pulled up to the police station.

 

Jack walked in to find Admiral Osman and standing across from a transfixed looking Collins looking utterly furious. Osman was back in uniform, but she was still, Jack noted, standing like a teenager caught shoplifting. That was odd. Odd in a way that couldn’t mean anything good. A couple of the ODST’s from the other night were trailing after her, looking inscrutable.

“Can I help you Admiral?” Jack said.

Osman spun to face him and immediately relaxed and smiled, “Inspector Robinson,” she said delightedly. Behind her, Collins slumped over against the desk.

This was something that happened to Jack relatively frequently. Most of the station gave him grief for ‘taking in strays’, but he couldn’t help that they were too lazy to pay a reasonable amount of attention to the people they spent their days around. But an ONI admiral wasn’t quite the same as the various habitual trouble makers around St. Malo and Mindoro and the people demanding to see him specifically generally knew him well enough to call him Jack.

“I sentyou a briefing, you never responded, I came to see what had happened to you,” said Osman, “about - oh you’ve met Lopis already that’s okay then.”

“No, its not,” said Jack. He walked straight past the whole crowd of them, pushed his office door open and waved Osman into it, “I have no idea what you’re trying to achieve so you can explain yourself properly.”

Osman made a great show of stalking slowly into his office and collapsing into his visitors chair.

Just for that, Jack didn’t even look at her until he’d skimmed through all his incoming mail and opened the notification she’d sent him, flagged extra-urgent eyes-only and marked with an ONI crest for good measure.

“So,” he said, finally, “who is that woman and what does she have to do with _my_ investigation?”

“I’ve assigned Agent Lopis’ team to collaborate with you on the bombing investigation. There’s a security angle to cover along with the homicide. She was a homicide detective originally, you’ll like her.”

Jack was momentarily stymied by the total incoherence of that statement, “I think you’ll find,” he finally managed, “that homicide detectives are a diverse and varied group of people.”

She laughed far more than the statement deserved. Jack couldn’t tell if she was nervous, trying to be friendly, or if she actually found it extremely funny for some reason.

“And what happens to my homicide investigation if you turn up something you think is important for ‘security’?” Jack asked. “I have six dead Admiral. Six people who I need to get justice for.”

“I’m not out to steal your investigation,” Osman said dryly, “just trying to save on some duplication of effort. Lopis is a good investigator, you two will save time working together. Besides, I don’t need people on the ground to rifle through your files.”

“No,” said Jack, “I imagine you don’t.”

She seemed sincere enough, but before they could hash out the details there was a scuffle outside and Deputy Commissioner Sanderson pushed open his office door. Over Sanderson’s shoulder Jack could see Hugh mouthing the word ‘sorry’.

“Deputy Commissioner,” said Jack, because George didn’t look like he was in the mood to be familiar.

“Jack,” George said shortly, before turning to face Osman, “Rear Admiral Osman, I was just informed you were here. The Lhopatpolice force is certainly willing to assist the Office of Naval Intelligence with this investigation. I can have Detective Inspector Robinson turn our case notes over to you. If you think this is serious enough to merit ONI intervention the Special Investigation Taskforce is at your disposal.”

The more deferentially helpful George got, the more horrified Osman looked. She had her back pressed into the chair like she was hoping to fall through it. When she spoke, her voice sounded strained, and she wasn’t even looking at him. She was, instead, staring straight into Jack’s eyes. Initially, it was a good chance to read her, but it got uncomfortable very fast.

“I really don’t know why you’re here. I didn’t ask to see you, this has already been handled. I really don’t think Jack needs the entire Special Investigation Taskforce to communicate with a four person investigative team, he seems very clever I think he can handle it by himself. He’ll update you however it is you’re normally updated, there’s no further need for you to have any contact with ONI. Good day.”

She pushed herself sharply up out of the chair and practically fled. Her pair of marines scrambled up and ran after her.

 

George stared after her then shut the door and turned back to Jack.

“What have you got yourself into Jack,” he asked.

“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me,” Jack replied, “I went to the my crime scene this morning and found ONI agents stomping all over it. And I’m still not clear on who that woman actually is, beyond ONI brass.”

“By this time next year,” George said, settling into the chair Osman had vacated, “Serin Osman will be the head of the Office of Naval Intelligence.”

“Well then what’s she doing here messing with my case?”Jack asked

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know,” George said, “but the rumours about her are shocking.So I’d recommend just letting her have whatever it is she wants.”

“Rumours?” Jack asked, “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me something. If you weren’t here I would be calling you about her.”

“All I know for sure,” George said, “is that before she was promoted to Rear Admiral a few months ago no one seems to have heard of her, and now, suddenly, she’s first in line to replace Admiral Parangosky. Its all very irregular. So just, tread lightly.”

Irregular didn’t seem to really cover it, but there was no point in bringing her strange behaviour up with George until he had something more than her demeanour to go on, and he seemed to be hiding something anyway.

“Well if she won’t tell me what she’s here for,” said Jack, “then I’ll continue my investigation until she does.”

George’s face darkened, “this isn’t the time to stand on principle Jack. I know you have high standards and you know I respect that, but sometimes even you have to bow to political realities. And this, is one of those times.”

Jack didn’t want to pick a fight with George, he was a good boss, and he’d been very decent about everything with Rosie. But the people who’d been caught in that explosion deserved better than to get caught up in UNSC politics.

“Well Osman claims she doesn’t have designs on my homicide investigation, for whatever that’s worth,” he said.

“Not much probably,” said George, “you just be careful Jack. I won’t be able to bail you out of this one.”

Jack nodded, and George got up and left, leaving Jack to deal with the ONI agent still standing in the lobby.

“I’m sorry about all that,” he said to her, following George out, “it looks like you’re in the right. Admiral Osman says I’m supposed to be sharing information with you.”

She nodded curtly. Jack got the sense he wasn’t forgiven.

“Constable Collins,” Jack said, “where are we with collecting witness statements?”

Collins seemed to recovered from his encounter with Osman, because he had his paperwork ready.

“I’ve got a list of everyone who we released from the scene last night sir,” Collins said, “but that doesn’t include most of the people who were taken to hospital. I didn’t want to interfere with the ambulances.”

“That’s the right call Collins,” Jack said, “send Blackwood around the hospitals and the paramedic crews to get the names we didn’t get last night. Do not let him attempt to interview anyone himself. And before you go, get in touch with the construction companies and find out how easy it is for an outside party to get their hands on blueprints for space elevators, any of them, not necessarily these ones in specific.”

He turned to Lopis, “I was planning on having Collins start the preliminary interviews while I went over the scene, then decide who’s worth calling back in. I don’t know if you’d like to have any of your people sit in, or join him?”

“No,” said Lopis, “but I’ll join you for the second round of interviews. My lot have started on the forensics, if you’d like to head back we can get started.”

She didn’t look completely happy about things, but she seemed at least willing to cooperate, which Jack figured was good enough to be getting on with.

“If you haven’t heard anything different,” he said to Collins as he headed out the door, “then meet us at the scene when you finish.”

 

“Sorry for taking your head off,” Lopis said shortly, as they got out of the car.

“No problem,” said Jack, he waited for her to offer an explanation, but it wasn’t forthcoming.

Veta’s three accomplices from earlier clustered around them as the car pulled up.

“So are we stuck with him then,” Mark asked Lopis, like Jack wasn’t standing right there.

“The admiral’s decided she likes him,” said Lopis, “so be nice.”

Lopis turned to Jack and pointed to each of them in turn, “this is Ash, this is Olivia, and you’ve met Mark, after a fashion,” she said.

Jack shook hands with each of them. They weren’t similar looking enough to be related, but they were all three of them very tall with matched shiny eyes and rigid postures. Veta didn’t introduce them as Spartans, and they weren’t as tall as Naomi, but she didn’t give last names, and they each had the same scars on their hands and wrists he’d seen on Naomi the other night. And on Admiral Osman. But unlike Naomi, and Osman, they also looked shockingly young.

Career soldiers often looked younger than they were, it was all the trips spent in cryostasis. Jack had met his fair share of soldiers who were older than he was and looked younger. But these three would have struggled to pass for even Hugh’s age. Maybe he was just getting old.

“Problem Inspector?” Olivia asked.

“No,” said Jack, “nice to meet you. Where would you like to start.”

“Naomi came back down,” said Ash, “she said there was something she wanted to make sure you caught.”

“Well lets start over there,” said Veta

Naomi was up in what was left of the blasted scaffolding and she leapt back down as they approached.

“Hello Inspector,” she called.

Veta looked up when she did. Jack mentally filed that away for later in the same place he was keeping his questions about Lopis’ team, and everything about Admiral Osman.

“There’s blast residue up here you’d only get in proximity to the actual explosive” said Naomi, “I wasn’t sure if the bomb squad would see this in the dark. Here.”

She leant down and held out one hand, palm up. Veta stepped into her hand and let Naomi boost her up into the scaffolding, and Jack followed.

Jack wasn’t an explosives expert but there was a clear ring of blast marks etched into the scaffolding and he took some pictures to send to the forensics teams. Beside him, Lopis was taking her own.

“Our forensics teams were here through the night,” Jack said to her, “we’ll get the initial reports sometime today. I’ll see that you’re copied on them.”

“I appreciate it,” she said, “she’s right though, I wouldn’t blame anyone for missing this in the dark.”

Jack sat down on the boards they were perched on, and was trying to decide if he could make the jump back to the ground, when Naomi reached up and just lifted him back down. It was very odd sensation. She’d only moved him in the direction he’d already meant to go, but it was also inescapably clear that if it hadn’t been, it wouldn’t have mattered. Lopis who had been lifted down next to him, didn’t seem ruffled.

“Good eyes,” he said to Naomi.

She nodded solemnly.

Jack set off walking around the scene, trying to get a feel for it. Lopis had turned back to her team, and seemed happy to leave him to his wandering. The forensics teams had left markers near key points of evidence, but, without the report he didn’t have yet, he didn’t know what the numbers were referring to. But that was, in Jack’s experience, a good source of perspective. The victim outlines, on the other hand, told a perfectly clear story.

There was a child’s shoe caught under a fallen support beam next to the sixth victim. The outline it was next to was far too large to belong to the shoe’s owner. Jack was turning it over in his gloved hands, trying to decide if that was a mercy or not when Olivia came and peered over his shoulder.

“Mom said she wants to go down to the morgue and get the autopsy results while we wait for the forensics,” she said.

“Mom?” Jack asked.

“Inspector - uh, Agent Lopis,” Olivia clarified, “I guess you’re the Inspector now.”

“And I plan to keep it that way,” Jack said.

“So did she,” said Olivia.

 

A busy morgue was so much worse than a quiet one. Jack considered himself about as comfortable in the morgue was it was possible to get, but it wasn’t a particularly welcoming place, and it wasn’t a large one either. They were already struggling to keep up with an increase in population the city wasn’t prepared to handle and six rush-job autopsies had pushed the place to its limits.

“I don’t have autopsies for you Inspector,” Mac said, “We’ve got preliminary reports on the first six, if you wait an hour we’ll probably have something for you on victim seven.”

“I wasn’t even aware there was a seventh victim,” Jack said.

“Earlier this morning,” said Mac, “I was in the ER all night, I’ve just got here myself. No sign of Dr. Johnson. Again.”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up at the crack of noon,” said Jack, “that’s okay, give us whatever you’ve got. It’s ID’s I really need at this stage. I need to know if I have families to notify.”

“I think we can oblige, we handled most of the notifications early this morning, but I’ll check with the hospital about that last victim,” said Mac, “who’re your friends?”

“This is Veta Lopis, from ONI,” Jack said, “and her team; Mark, Ash and Olivia. Agent Lopis, this is Doctor Elizabeth Macmillan.”

“Pleased to meet you. Sorry about the circumstances,” said Veta, “I’d like to have my people sit in on at least some of the autopsies, if you can manage it. I promise they’ll be quiet.”

“Is ONI checking up on me?” Mac asked, although she didn’t sound especially upset about it.

“They just need the experience,” said Veta.

“Provided none of them faint at the sight of blood, they can come with me then,” said Mac.

Veta turned back and looked over her team, “I think they’ll probably be okay,” she said.

Both of them seemed to be joking, but Jack got the sense neither of them noticed.

Mac turned on her heel and and headed back into the labs, waving Veta’s team after her. Veta watched them go warily, then settled into one of the chairs in the waiting area. Jack sat down next to her, leaving a chair between them.

“Is it always like this around here?” Veta asked him.

“There are a million refugees between Mindoro and St. Malo, most of them arrived in the last three months,” said Jack, rather shortly, “I imagine they’ll worry about making sure we have enough resources for the medical examiner’s office sometime after they figure out housing and sanitation.”

“I didn’t realize it was this bad,” said Veta

Jack just stared at her.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

It must have been the wrong thing to ask, because she just glowered at him.

 

And the Miss Fisher walked in.


	3. Chapter 3

Miss Fisher always stood out, but she was seemingly incapable of looking out of place, like anyone else would have, standing in an overcrowded morgue in a shimmery grey coat over a midnight blue dress. There was no chance Lopis hadn’t seen her, but he stood up and put himself between the two of them in some vain hope of controlling the situation.

“Hello Jack,” she said, stepping forward to take her customary place inside his personal space.

“Miss Fisher,” he said, “this really not the best time.”

“Since when do you have a problem with me visiting the morgue?” she asked, looking understandably put-out.

“Since I suddenly got a whole team worth of assistance from ONI I didn’t ask for,” Jack explained, “I can’t have any more consultants on this case, my dance card is full.”

Miss Fisher looked over his shoulder and he could see that she saw Lopis before she lit up with a wide, wicked grin, “lucky for you I’m not here to consult for the police. I’ve been asked to investigate by the family of Kendall Liu. But I am, of course, happy to share any information I find with the police.”

She winked, ducked around him before he could stop her, drew up in front of Lopis and held out her hand, “Phryne Fisher, private detective, how do you do?” she asked.

Veta did not look impressed. She stood up, which didn’t do much, since she was still a good handspan shorter than Phryne, shook her hand briefly, and just glared at her.

“So do you actually have any idea what you’re doing, or does the phrase Private Detective just make you feel clever?” Lopis asked.

Fortunately Phryne handled that sort of thing well, “I think you’ll find I’ve got a firm grasp of what it is I’m doing. And I’m sure Inspector Robinson will vouch for me.”

“I still want someone to vouch for Inspector Robinson,” said Lopis.

“Miss Fisher has been asked to investigate independently by one of the victim’s family, her licence as a private investigator is up to date” Jack explained. He pointedly did not respond to her comment about him.

Lopis didn’t actually ask, out loud if Jack was going to let a civilian run around his crime scenes and question his witnesses, but Jack could see her thinking it. They stood there for a bit, while she looked him with increasing exasperation while she figured out the answer would be yes, and he tried to look as if he had no idea what her problem with the whole scenario might be.

“I prefer to take statements from the victims families myself,” Jack said to Veta, “do you want to take a crack at getting those space elevator blueprints? ONI will have better access than I will and I think we should be looking at them, not just figuring out who could have got copies.”

“I’ll have Olivia do that once the autopsies are done,” Veta said casually, “I’ll come with you to take statements.”

 

If working with ONI was going to save anyone any time, Jack had yet to see how. Because the only thing it gained him was an uncomfortable shadow following him through seven, exhausting interviews. He’d done enough of these with Miss Fisher that he could work with her with ease. He could leave the parts where his natural approach was less than ideal to her, and she knew when to step in. Veta didn’t step in, she didn’t even seem to be trying. This was not about collaboration, he realized, driving between asking Yvette Patel about her husband while trying not to wake up their new baby, and asking Petra Hineberg about her wife. This was an audition so Lopis could decide if he was worth the trouble.

By the time they got back to the station he didn’t have the energy to care whether he passed or not, and Hugh was waiting with the list for the second round of interviews.

Then Lopis finally decided to start participating.

“We’ve got two autopsies - short the pathology, but that’s not likely to be make or break evidence in a bombing, we should have three soon, according to Ash,” she said, “we should start reconstructing the scene.”

“I’d rather go through the interviews,” Jack said, “there may still be some indication of a clear motive.”

“Easier to get a confession with forensics,” Lopis countered.

“No need to start a fight,” said Miss Fisher, “there’s enough evidence for everyone to have a piece. Jack and I can start in on the interviews, God knows they won’t get finished today, and Agent Lopis can start with the forensics, and we’ll just, meet in the middle.”

Lopis pursed her lips for a moment, “how about Robinson takes the interviews, I’ll send the Ferrets to meet him, and you can go over the forensics with me.”

Miss Fisher just shrugged, seemingly willing to go along with this.

“Keeping an eye on us?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” said Lopis, unrepentantly, “besides, my lot could do with some experience of straight police work.”

It was the second time she’d referred to her three maybe-Spartans as needing some experience, and Jack didn’t feel like letting it slide again. This wasn’t the sort of case you put people on to get experience.

“So are they keeping an eye on me, or am I training them for you, because I really don’t have the time,” he snapped.

“Relax,” said Lopis, quite unreasonably, in Jack’s opinion, “they’re very well-trained, they just need to rack up some hours in the field, and this is as good a case as any.”

“I’d hardly consider this a good case for beginners,” Jack said.

“Well, compared to most of ours it is,” said Lopis.

Jack bit back a very large number of very snide responses and just said, “very well. The forensics will all come through to my office, you and Miss Fisher can set up in there. Collins, what did you find out about the blueprints?”

“I haven’t had a chance sir,” said Collins, “I just finished sorting through the witness information. Sorry sir.”

“No,” said Jack, “you’ve made good time. I’ll take them from here, you take Blackwood and get on that.”

“Yes sir,” said Collins, and trotted off. At least one person was being cooperative.

 

Lopis and Miss Fisher retreated into his office - he hoped that most of the infrastructure would survive -and Jack slipped into one of the interview rooms where people wouldn’t bother him, and took advantage of the solitude to go carefully through Collins’ notes and order the witnesses to his liking. They were detailed notes, it wasn’t difficult, and it was nice to get some quiet.

It was quiet enough that he could hear when Lopis’ people stomped in with no trouble.

“You three are with me,” he said, as he came back out and walked right past them out the door, “we have witnesses to interview, unless you’ve been given different orders.”

“Mom said to follow you around and do whatever you say,” said Olivia.

“Right,” said Jack, because what could you say to that, “well, how much interviewing experience do you have?”

“Well, we practiced at the Mill,” said Ash.

Jack consulted the ceiling briefly in case it had any advice to how he was supposed to conduct a major bombing investigation with a pack of totally green investigators hanging off his coat tails. It did not.

“I think its best if you just stand back and take notes,” said Jack, “watch what I do.”

 

The second round of interviews wasn’t as tiring as the first, but it was a lot longer. Eventually, every person on the scene was going to have to be tracked down and asked to give a statement, and the bulk of that would keep Collins and Tanner busy for the next several days. But there was no substitute for doing an interview. For actually speaking to someone and watching them react to your questions. So Jack was going to do this first round of interviews with the people most likely to have really seen something, himself. Even though he was going to pay for it tomorrow.

Lopis’ baby agents weren’t awful. They followed instructions, paid attention, kept quiet and took good notes. It wasn’t like having Miss Fisher to help, and it wasn’t saving him any time, but they were better than some of his junior constables. He had six witnesses that he’d marked as top priority, and four of them were in the same hospital, so he pushed through them all in one go, then collapsed onto a bench outside the hospital.

The sun had been up when they’d gone in. Now it was most of the way under the horizon. Lunch-time had presumably occurred at some point earlier while Jack had been busy with other things.

“We’re done for today,” he said, “you want dinner.”

They did a good job of pretending to be uninterested and generally made of titanium, but not a perfect job.

He herded them into the back of a vaguely dodgy diner across the street and bought a probably sufficiently pile of food and cheap coffee.

“So,” he said, “thoughts? Questions? Observations?”

“Well,” said Mark, after a long pause, “I don’t think the bomber is lying in a hospital somewhere trying to look innocent. I mean, maybe when we talk to someone who isn’t off their head on painkillers, someone will have seen something, but I think they came and went.”

“That construction site was staffed around the clock,” said Jack, “someone, somewhere, on my long list of witnesses, saw something.”

“What if they’re just really good though,” said Olivia, “like, good at things. I mean, I could probably plant a bomb in a working construction site and walk out. Especially if I had active camo.”

“Its possible,” said Jack, “but it isn’t very likely. Don’t discard the idea, but we’re going to go through the more likely options first. Most people aren’t Spartans, so most bombers aren’t either.”

It was a calculated ploy and it provoked the exact wave of stammering denial that Jack had been expecting.

“How did you know?” Olivia finally.

Jack pointed to his left wrist with his right hand, “you aren’t the first Spartans I’ve met.”

“Well that’s classified,” said Ash, “so don’t tell.”

“My lips are sealed,” said Jack. They looked so crest-fallen that he actually believed they thought they’d been keeping that a secret. Like it wasn’t completely obvious.


End file.
